


Close your eyes (and let go)

by Viridaeris



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon Divergence, Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, He feels guilty tho, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mutual Pining, Or Is It?, POV Peter Parker, Peter Parker is clueless, Shameless Kissing, Tony stark is a bit of a pervert, Tony's A+ Mentoring, Underage Kissing, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love, and a dork, call the police, nothing really happens lol, slight angst because why not, this is really silly, unorthodox teaching methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridaeris/pseuds/Viridaeris
Summary: Mr. Stark proved to be the best mentor Peter could ever hope for, in more ways than one.(Or, in which kissing is not exactly the best of pedagogical practices.)





	Close your eyes (and let go)

**Author's Note:**

> After the absolute wreck Endgame and FFH made out of my little heart, I decided to write a sort of throwback, light and silly piece. So this is set somewhere after Homecoming (and ignores the events of IW, Endgame and FFH), which means Peter is around 15-16. If that's not right up your alley (although all they do is kiss), then you shouldn't be here!!
> 
> P.S, this has probably a lot of mistakes, but I promise you I'm not completely illiterate, I just wrote this at 3 A.M and haven't re-read it properly :v

"Hey, Parker, you hungry? Want me to order pizza, or-" Mr. Stark stopped in his tracks, raising a surprised, amused eyebrow up at Peter. "What the hell are you doing?" 

Peter really should have seen this coming. Although to be fair, he hadn’t expected Mr. Stark to come back so soon, what with how often he left Peter alone in the lab for hours whenever he had to deal with Stark Industries and Avengers meetings, or the very-important-people stuff you’d expect from a man of Tony Stark’s calibre. 

So, yes, maybe making out with one of the glass panes in Mr. Stark’s lab (wow, that sounded so stupid) as a way of practicing his nonexistent kissing skills and to avoid making a complete fool of himself tomorrow when he finally tried to kiss MJ wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had.

(And if MJ wasn’t really the one he’d been thinking about while he’d been doing it, well. No one had to know).

“Mr. Stark!” he practically squeaked once he noticed the man standing by the door, pushing himself as far away as possible from the glass and almost stumbling down in his haste. His face immediately flushed up with embarrassment, because, really. This was like, one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to him, right up with that one time he gave his seat up to a pregnant lady on the bus who… wasn’t actually pregnant. Or that time in 8th grade he’d ripped his pants open in front of the prettiest girl in the class. Because this—this was _Tony __freaking_ _Stark_, the smartest, coolest person on the planet and his favourite hero slash mentor slash father-figure slash impossible crush.

“I—I, I was just, I’m—"

“Is this how you amuse yourself when I’m gone?” Mr. Stark asked, looking more entertained than he probably had the right to be, his eyes flickering curiously to the mouth-shaped stain Peter had left on the glass. 

And gosh, did that particular phrasing sound weird. Because it sounded like Mr. Stark had just caught Peter doing something _worse, _and_—_wow, really Peter? Since when was he this dirty-minded? 

Actually, thank Heavenshe hadn’t been doing _that_. Not that he would actually be capable of… in Mr. Stark’s lab… God, _no_.

“It—It’s not what you think! I was just practicing,” he rushed to explain, aware of how ridiculous he sounded, but what could he do? It was the truth.

“Practicing,” the man echoed with the sort of half-amused disinterest he treated every non-strictly-urgent matter with, walking over to his station and picking up the tools he’d been using before he’d left the lab hours ago.

Peter stared dumbly after Mr. Stark, the flush reaching up all the way to the tip of his ears as he wondered what to say now. Should he try to further explain his way out of this and restore some of his lost dignity, or just forget about it and go on with his work, just like what Mr. Stark seemed to be doing? 

Peter knew his mentor couldn’t care less about what he’d seen him doing and, well, Peter was just overacting. But, still. He didn’t want Mr. Stark to think he was a weird, silly kid—like he didn’t think that enough of him already.

Opting for the hopefully dignity-restoring and pride-saving option, he said, “Uh, do you remember MJ? I’m, I’m going out on a date with her tomorrow, and…”

Without looking up from his work, Mr. Stark offered, “And you wanted to dazzle her with your smooching skills?”

“Uh, yeah. Exactly,” Peter muttered, scrunching up his nose at Mr. Stark’s choice of words. 

“Just give her a peck or something. It’ll blow her mind, 100% guaranteed.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m not twelve,” he reproached, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. He knew he'd failed miserably.

“Well, twelve, sixteen, that’s all the same in my book,” Mr. Stark brushed off, still not bothering to look up at Peter from the piece of tech he was currently tinkering with. 

Peter absolutely hated his mentor’s dismissive, patronising attitude, an attitude he used with him every time he could, ever since their first meeting. It only reminded him of how much of a kid he was in Mr. Stark's eyes.

“I just, I just want to impress her,” Peter felt the need to explain, walking back to his stool before plopping himself down, feeling quite dejected. “She’s so amazing and pretty and smart and I can’t believe she agreed to go out with someone like me, so I just, I don’t want to fuck things up." And if he weren’t so focused on letting out his frustration (because, really, who else could he talk about this with? Certainly not May, that would be _weird_) he’d probably feel embarrassed about bothering Mr. Stark with what he surely must think of as stupid teenage trivialities. Well, whatever. It seemed like Mr. Stark wasn’t even listening to him anymore, seeing as how he hadn’t even looked up at Peter once since he’d resumed with his work. 

Peter wanted to just shut up, to stop embarrassing himself and making everything worse, but for some reason, the words just kept flooding out. “And so- well, she’s not the most popular girl in school, far from it, but _still, _she’s-she’s _cool_, you know? So I’m pretty sure she must’ve been on dates before, right? And maybe even, k-kissed other boys, but I haven’t even had my first kiss yet, and—"

“Hold up,” Mr. Stark cut in suddenly, his head finally snapping up to look at Peter, something the boy couldn’t really understand flashing across his eyes for a split second. “What did you just say? That last part?” 

“I-I,” Peter stammered, the blush returning full-force to his cheeks. “I said, I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Really?” 

Why was Mr. Stark so shocked? Sure, it was a bit lame, but did he really think it was that weird? 

_Was _it weird? 

“I mean, yeah,” Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought it was obvious? Why else would I need practice?”

“Jesus, kid. At your age, I was already—” realising how close he was from _oversharing_, Mr. Stark paused. “Never mind. Just—listen, Pete. You don’t need practice for that. You just need to man up, go for it and let yourself feel it, and, ta-da. It’s not rocket science.”

Peter blinked up at him, unimpressed. God, what had he expected? Some mind-blowing revelation? Mr. Stark was probably the most experienced guy in the world about these things and at the same time the most _clueless, _because everything was a breeze to him and came to him effortlessly. There was no way he’d understand what Peter was feeling, or take his struggles seriously. 

Scowling, Peter mumbled a frustrated _it’s not that simple, Mr. Stark, _before turning away from the man and focusing sullenly on his work, determined to just, well, forget about this whole deal, like he should’ve done from the start. 

Noticing his shift in attitude, Mr. Stark sighed, letting go of his tools to focus on Peter. “Wait, Pete, don’t sulk. I get it. This stuff is important to you.”

Peter reluctantly brought his eyes back up to Mr. Stark. “Well, yeah.” 

“Okay,” Mr. Stark replied. He watched Peter in silence for a few seconds, his expression schooled and thoughtful. And then, “C’mere, kid.” 

“W-What?”

“Just, come here.”

Blinking in confusion, Peter slid off the stool a bit too ungracefully, approaching Mr. Stark’s station with slow steps.

“Sit down,” the man instructed, gesturing to the stool in front of him.

Okay, was Mr. Stark going to show him something about his work or...? But why did he want him sitting _this_ close? Normally such proximity would be a blessing, but right now it was more of a curse because it forced Peter to keep his eyes trained on the ground and not on Mr. Stark's handsome features, or else he’d probably self-combust. 

“So, you wanna learn how to kiss.”

“…Yes?” Peter said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Alright, easy peasy. Watch carefully, and—”

"Wait, what? You... _what? _”

“Yeah.” Mr. Stark grinned wide, almost conspiratorially. “I’ll show you how.” 

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly, because, _what?_ What did he mean he’d _show him how?_

And then it occurred to him— Ms. Potts was at the compound right now, wasn’t she? Was Mr. Stark like, going to call her down to, uh, assist in some sort of demonstration…? 

The absurd thought immediately made him flush, but, what else could it be? “Is- Is Ms. Potts going to come and… help you…?”

“What? No, kid,” Mr. Stark laughed, shaking his head incredulously, as if he’d just heard something completely ludicrous coming out of Peter’s mouth. To be fair, it _was_. “There’s no need for that. Instead, let me introduce you to this gal right here,” he said, wiggling his right fist in the air. 

Oh. _Oh._ But– but he couldn’t be serious, could he? Was he really going to do something so childish?

The answer was yes, because soon Mr. Stark was bringing his hand up to his mouth and pressing his lips against it, letting his eyes fall shut. Peter’s gaze was immediately stuck to the way Mr. Stark’s lips closed in around the soft skin with rhythmical, hypnotising movements, to the wet splotch of saliva now coating his hand and the pink tongue peeking out from between glistening lips, and, _wow_. This was, _t__his was-_

-over too soon.

“You got that?” Mr. Stark said, lowering his hand to stare at Peter expectantly. 

"I, y-yeah," Peter spluttered, for some reason unable to hold Mr. Stark's gaze for more than two seconds. 

“Good, now you do it.”

Peter stared at his hand, then back up at Mr. Stark with comically wide, panicked eyes. In return, he only received a half-impatient, half-encouraging nod.

Talking to Mr. Stark about this had been an awful idea. 

Sighing, Peter brought his hand up to his face and stared at it for a second, before pressing it against his lips and trying to mimic Mr. Stark’s previous movements. It felt- weird. Like he was drooling all over his hand, or actually trying to take a chunk of skin off and, like, eat it? Maybe he shouldn’t be using his teeth. No, he _definitely _shouldn’t. 

He was clearly doing a piss poor job, evidenced by the grimace that soon took over his mentor’s face.

“Okay, no, stop. That’s not—” Mr. Stark sighed, looking like he regretted ever suggesting this to Peter. 

Shit, shit shit shit. Why did he have to suck so much at this? All he was doing was wasting Mr. Stark’s time!

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, dropping his hand to his lap and wiping the saliva on his jeans. “I told you I was awful at this.”

“Clearly an understatement,” Mr. Stark mumbled, rubbing a palm over his face. “Look, Pete. I don’t know what to tell you. If Handelina here didn’t work, then all you can do is try to gain experience through kissing actual people.”

“Are you suggesting, what, that I ask someone I know for help?” 

“What? _No_,” Mr. Stark said, a frown slipping into his forehead. “I meant, you know, with time and patience. As you course through relationships and get new sweethearts, yada yada yada.” But after a second of thought, he added with a tilt of the head, “Although what you said is… not a bad idea.”

Feeling suddenly mortified at the thought, which was just stupid because it had been _his own idea_, Peter rushed to say, “M-Maybe not so. It’s not like I have anyone to ask.” Which was true. (Except for MJ, of course, but that kinda defeated the purpose of all of this.) But as his eyes _accidentally _flickered down to Mr. Stark’s thin, pink lips, still slightly wet and glistening under the white lights of the lab, a wild, _wild _thought popped up in his mind. 

“...the only one I could ask is you,” Peter heard himself muttering under his breath and _holy shit_, _what the fuck was he thinking_? His brain had seemingly short-circuited because in what planet was saying such a thing aloud to anyone, let alone his _crush_, okay? At least he’d said it low enough for only him to hear, right? _Right_? 

Apparently not (_of course _Mr. Stark had heard, knowing his god-awful bad luck) because as soon as the man caught wind of Peter’s words, his eyes widened in surprise and— and that same unrecognisable, thrilling emotion Peter still didn’t have a name for. 

“What was that?” Mr. Stark said, and was Peter imagining things or did his voice sound rougher than usual?

“N-no, nothing! Thank you for your help, sir. That was enlightening. I, uh, have to finish working on my project so I’ll just go and—"

“Wait.” Mr. Stark stood up, grabbing Peter by the wrist before the boy could flee the scene. “You’re right about that. Who better than me to teach you?" he commented way too casually, as if he wasn’t offering to, _to-_

“Idontthinkthatsagoodidea,” Peter said, and although he was mortified, a part of him was growing irredeemably excited (_uh-oh_) because, this was like a one in a million opportunity to do something he'd always wanted to do, a too-good-to-be-true chance that could only belong to his craziest dreams.

Which begged the question... he wasn't dreaming, was he? 

“You better not be, because that’d be disappointing,” Mr. Stark said, and _oh shit_, he’d said that aloud. 

Peter snapped his head up to stare at Mr. Stark in disbelief and was met with the man’s watchful, unusually keen eyes firmly set on him, something odd and slightly dangerous lighting them up.

Peter shuddered, suddenly feeling like prey-a feeling as scary as it was thrilling. 

After a second of silent staring, Mr. Stark frowned, seeming to mistake Peter's hesitance for fear.

“So, you don’t want to,” he said, releasing Peter’s wrist and suddenly looking kind of… of worried. Regretful. Unsure? Like he was reconsidering things, maybe realising how kissing his underage protégé wasn't the best of ideas (even in the name of didacticism) or, you know, remembering that he had a_ fiancée? _“Don’t want me to teach you, I mean. Because I understand if you don't—”

“No, I-I, I do!" Peter answered probably way too quickly, flushing bright pink right after. Just—woah. He'd never, _ever_ thought he'd have the chance to- to do _anything_ of this sort with Mr. Stark, because, well, he wasn't stupid. He knew that whatever he felt towards his mentor was probably just a crush (even if it felt... deeper than that), and that Mr. Stark felt nothing towards him. But even if he did feel something, it would change nothing, because being together would be... weird? Wrong? Illegal? Morally draining? Take your pick. Besides... he liked MJ. He really, really did—

—Just, not as much as he liked Mr. Stark, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise. And if he'd asked MJ out as a way of settling for 'second-best' because he _knew_ there was no way in Hell he'd _ever_ be with Mr. Stark, well. For his conscience's sake, he could pretend that hadn't been the case.

“I just…" Peter averted his eyes, still not believing this was real. "I will fuck it up, and you, you’re not going to like it…”

Mr. Stark sighed with something like relief, the worry visibly melting off his features. “Why would it matter if I like it or not? I’m just here to teach you, remember?” he said, giving Peter a soft smile and placing a warm, gentle hand on the expanse of his skin where neck met shoulder.

And somehow _that, _that small display of affection, was what finally pushed Peter to step closer to Mr. Stark, stopping when their chests were almost pressed against each other. 

“Mr. Stark...” he whispered, and _God_, why did he sound so needy all of a sudden? 

“Kid,” Mr. Stark said slowly, his tone losing the light nature it’d carried all the way from the start. “You do know I can’t actually _do_ anything until you explicitly ask, right?”

“O-Of course,” Peter said, concentrating on the brown of Mr. Stark’s eyes, on the thickness of his lashes and the nice shape of his lips. “I, uh, want you to teach me, sir."

“That’s not what I’m asking, Peter.” 

And_— Oh_.

Well. That made sense. Because Mr. Stark wasn’t the kind of man to… to do anything, even something as simple as _this_, without any form of consent. 

“I want you to, to k-kiss me, sir. Please,” Peter whispered, feeling like he could die of embarrassment and _happiness _any minute now.

“Much better,” Mr. Stark said, voice low and slightly hoarse, making the hairs on Peter's arms stand on end. “Now, pay attention.”

And before Peter could prepare himself mentally, Mr. Stark was leaning in, brushing their lips together ever so slightly. But even such a small, feather-light touch was enough to make guacamole out of Peter’s brain because _holy shit, he was kissing Tony Stark. _And it wasn't any kiss. It was his _first kiss_, arguably the most important of all—even if a little voice in the back of his mind told him this one didn't count.

“Close your eyes, Peter," Mr. Stark whispered, and- oh, right. It was probably not a good idea to stay frozen in place, staring up at him with wide, awestruck eyes.

So, he did as told- closed his eyes, and let go of any thoughts clouding his mind, so he could focus solely on the feeling of Mr. Stark’s lips hovering millimetres away from his. 

“Good boy,” Mr. Stark breathed, using a tone of voice Peter had never heard him or _any _adult use before. It made his whole body tremble and burn up like a building in flames, a pool of heat immediately travelling down to his lower abdomen.

Then Mr. Stark leaned in once more, this time closing his mouth around Peter’s and trapping the boy's lower lip in between his own. Peter suddenly felt too dizzy and drunk with warmth and emotion and _whatisthisfeeling _to move,and all he could think then was,_ thank __God_ for the hand Mr. Stark had firmly planted on his neck, because without it he’d probably just melt and collapse to the ground.

Remembering himself, Peter finally started moving along, trying to match Mr. Stark's pace and imitate his movements as enthusiastically as he could, which was becoming harder and harder because of just how good everything felt. It didn’t help that ever since the bite, he felt things like, ten times more strongly than before, which probably explained why he felt like he was literally about to explode. 

Maybe that also had something to do with how he seemed to have forgotten how to _breathe_, because from the moment Mr. Stark had pressed against him, he’d knocked all the air out of his lungs—

“This is the part where you breathe,” Mr. Stark said, stopping and pulling away for a few seconds. Only then did Peter realise he’d been tightly gripping Mr. Stark’s shoulders as if his life depended on it, the overwhelming urge to gasp out for air suddenly filling him up.

Well, that explained a lot.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, flushed to the core and panting heavily, his heart beating so loudly in his chest he was sure Mr. Stark could hear it too, even with no super-hearing. 

“Don’t apologise. You’re doing great. As in, B+ great,” Mr. Stark assured, lifting a hand up to place it over Peter’s jaw. The tender gesture only helped to make Peter flush even harder. “Now listen, you’ll want to get your hands up here too. Like this." And just on cue, Mr. Stark raised the hand on Peter’s jaw up to the back of his head, slowly running it through the boy’s scalp and brown locks. The action made a shiver run down Peter’s spine, and he had to consciously make an effort to swallow up any embarrassing sounds that might come out against his will.

“See? Girls love when you do that,” Mr. Stark smirked knowingly, and, shit. Girls—MJ. MJ, the reason he was doing this in the first place. The one he was _supposed _to have his first kiss with—his _girlfriend._ A brief thought of panic shot through his mind, because, even though deep down he knew he didn't feel for MJ even half of what he felt for Mr. Stark, he still liked her and didn't want to _cheat_ _on her_—

“Focus, Peter,” Mr. Stark warned, something in his tone making Peter snap his eyes open and up at him, which was probably a mistake because, _wow_. The look on Mr. Stark's face was borderline _pornographic_, eyes dark, half-lidded and glinting with something predatory, the brown of his irises having almost completely disappeared around his blown-wide pupils. 

So Peter swallowed away the dryness in his throat, closed his eyes once more, and let go.

They kissed once, twice, thrice, and- well, then he lost count- each time lasting longer than the previous. But Peter was still too sloppy, too inexperienced and unsure of himself to be able to properly hold his own against Mr. Stark, feeling utterly and deliciously overpowered. Mr. Stark didn’t seem to mind though, his movements only becoming quicker, rougher as time went on, which somewhat tranquilised Peter because _hey_, at least that meant he must be doing somewhat of a good job, right? 

And when Peter felt the telltale touch of a tongue running over his bottom lip and gently pushing at his mouth, he couldn’t stop the embarrassing whimper that escaped his lips. Which wasn’t the worst part. No, what was worse, was the guttural, low and unimaginably arousing sound Mr. Stark let out in response. That was when he realised one small, alarming fact— he was painfully hard in his jeans. 

Which was- it was _laughable_, because this wasn't supposed to be something to derive pleasure out of, something to get his hopes up for, _not really, _it was only supposed to be a _lesson. _He knew that, and yet- and yet he'd felt so excited, so _happy_, even though he knew it wasn't something that, in the normal circumstances involving two people who liked each other, Mr. Stark would ever want to do with _him_. 

Apparently, he’d become way too distracted with his thoughts of worry because he'd slowed down his movements enough for it to be noticed by Mr. Stark, who a second later was also slowing down and—why was he stopping?

Not only was he stopping, he was also removing his hands from where they were burrowed in Peter's hair, then pulling back completely and stepping away until there were a few feet of distance between him and Peter. And for a surreal minute there, it almost looked like he was _fleeing_.

Right then, Peter thought he caught a glimpse of concern and—and was that _guilt_?—on Mr. Stark's face, but it was quickly wiped off to give way to his usual confident, easygoingexpression_._

“Congratulations, Mr. Parker. You passed kissing 101,” Mr. Stark joked, the mock-professional tone lacing his words sounding hollow against Peter’s ears. 

And why— why did he feel so _empty_ all of a sudden? Shouldn't he feel ecstatic, satisfied, _fulfilled? _Why did it feel as if an invisible, enormous gap that wasn't there a second ago had suddenly settled between them?

Noticing Peter’s disappointment, Mr. Stark's lips quirked up into his signature smirk, although there was no real humour behind it. No, in this particular moment, it felt strained, out of place and almost _forced_, leaving a sour taste in Peter’s throat. “Sorry, kiddo. The rest is only for the advanced class.”

And although Mr. Stark probably didn't intend for it to sound that way, Peter couldn't help deducing the clear message behind his words. It wasn't just, '_anything else is off-limits'. _It was, and of course it was, 'anything else_—__with you'_. Because he wasn't Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, powerful and imposing and the most beautiful woman Peter had ever met. He wasn't one of those pretty, enticing reporters Mr. Stark had once or twice taken to bed. No, he was just a painfully young, stupidly earnest and naive kid from Queens. 

"Right," Peter mumbled, all the elation, the glee and the _high_ from before melting away, leaving him feeling stupid and bitter. "Thank you, sir, for—" _for being my first kiss_, _even though it doesn't mean anything to you._ "—for the lesson."

Peter stepped away then, praying Mr. Stark wouldn’t notice the slight tightness in his jeans (which, with all these depressing thoughts, at least seemed to be withering away), the gap between them growing, and growing, and _growing—_

"Don't mention it," Mr. Stark smiled up at him, soft and fatherly. And just with that small, little gesture that in normal circumstances he would desperately grasp on to and use to feed his need for affection, Peter knew.

He knew that whatever had been going on, whatever more _could _go on between them, was over.

“Now let’s get back to work, or you'll get home after your bedtime and your aunt will skin me alive.”

And maybe, maybe if he had been a bit more grown-up, a bit more _adult_, he might have picked up on the actual meaning behind Mr. Stark's confusing words, on the fuel behind his actions and the strain in his voice. He could have understood that odd, betraying glint in his eyes, noticed the deep _want_ flashing through his stares, touches and smiles, and realised that not everything he thought he _knew_ was right. 

But he wasn't.

So Peter just smiled back in response- and let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was 100% silliness :')  
I hope you enjoyed it. If so, please feel free to leave kudos, comments or feedback!


End file.
